


Asking For A Friend

by daftydraw, JWMelmoth



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dalton AU, KB Week 2020, Kurtbastian Week, M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly, pre-Kurtbastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftydraw/pseuds/daftydraw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWMelmoth/pseuds/JWMelmoth
Summary: In a Dalton AU where Kurt and Sebastian are (reluctant) roommates, Kurt gets some bad news. Sebastian tries to comfort him in his uniquely unhelpful way.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 12
Kudos: 185
Collections: Kurtbastian Week 2020





	Asking For A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> For KB Week 2020 Prompt: 'Hurt/Comfort' & 'Dalton'.

As Sebastian opened the door to his shared dorm and saw his room mate quickly wipe his hands over his face and lightly pinch his cheeks to appear less pale, he sighed deeply. _Great, just what he needed._

After the infinite boredom that was Dalton's French class, a gruelling Calculus test and one and a half hours of being hounded by his Lacrosse coach, all he wanted was a long shower (paired with a quick jerk-off or maybe some fun with a volunteer if he was lucky) and a quiet evening to finish his book. 

What he did _not_ want was having to deal with the Drama of the Day from Kurt-I-am-a-diva-Hummel, whose presence in his dorm was infuriating at times and tolerable at best.

"What happened," he asked flatly, dumping his lacrosse gear on the ground by his bed (maybe a little more forcefully than needed just because Kurt hated it when he left his stuff on the floor but hey he was about to lose his chill evening so Kurt would have to deal with it). 

"Another one of your crushes turn out to be a frog? I thought you would have learned not to trust your taste in men after Blaine."

Kurt's crush on the Warbler had been embarrassing but thankfully short-lived; as soon as the boy dared to comment on Kurt's rendition of _Don't Cry for Me Argentina_ , his shine to him dulled. Kurt took his art very seriously. If anyone had asked Sebastian (which no one had- their loss) he could have told them Blaine was a dud; he had already tried to hook up with him after he got back from Paris and it was honestly just not worth the price of the coffee he had paid for.

Kurt felt fresh tears well in his eyes at Sebastian's words and sucked in a breath. On any other day, he'd have come back with a cutting remark, a reprimand for dumping his stuff all over the floor (again), and probably a witty response to the jab at his love life (or lack of); but today, he just didn't have the energy.

"Actually," Kurt said thickly around the lump in his throat. "This came today." He waved the single sheet of paper that had shattered all of his hopes and dreams for the future in the air and handed it over. "It's from NYADA...I didn't get in." The tears in his eyes breached the waterline and rolled down his cheeks.

"Huh." Sebastian frowned and glanced over the letter. NYADA? Oh, the theatre school Kurt was always harping on about. Trent was the same; Sebastian just learnt to tune them out by now. 

_Dear Mr Hummel, we regret to inform you blablabla-_ Platitudes spat out by a machine.

He thrust the paper back at Kurt. "Well, that shouldn't come as such a surprise, should it?" he drawled.

From a deeply hidden reserve of emergency-bitchiness, Kurt managed to summon up a glare, though it didn't last for long; Sebastian's words were just confirmation of what he'd been telling himself for the last twenty minutes.

_Nothing I do will ever be good enough._

He closed his eyes and let out a choked sob.

Sebastian stared at him, wondering what had just happened. Way, _way_ too late, he realised how Kurt had interpreted his words. 

"No, that's not-" he started, sucking in a breath and searching for the right words. "I just meant- _of course_ someone like you wouldn't get into NYADA-" He winced as he saw he was only making it worse. Why didn't Kurt understand he meant that in a good way?

"Look, Kurt...your voice is extraordinary. You know that. You have talent, you're different. But that's not what schools like that are looking for. What they want is marketability; and to achieve that, they need artists that fit the mold. All those new musicals that come out, they're not like Funny Girl or Evita. They are not tailor-made to the voice of a unique singer; they are produced in a predetermined format and _then_ cast, so the songs need to be in the wheelhouse of their entire class. Take _Frozen_! They translated that mediocre score into like 49 languages to spread it all over the world. Now if they had written songs that only one single person in the world could sing, it wouldn't have been a hit." 

"So what?" Kurt said through his tears. "Because I'm different and "not the ideal" i should just give up all my dreams and make way for people who are flat packed stars?"

He shook his head. He had heard it all before; from his dad, his old Glee coach, his friends...hell even Blaine had tried to tell him to ‘tone it down' so that he would fit in. It was practically the soundtrack to his entire life.

"I know I'm never likely to get the leading role in a romcom, or day time television…" he said thickly. "But the stage is supposed to be different. My whole life I watched and listened to Barbara Streisand, Patty Lupone hell even Neil Patrick Harris tell kids like me that the theatre was made for people who are different...and now what...I'm _too different_?"

He stared at his roommate in disbelief. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I was trying to make you feel better," he offered, avoiding Kurt's red eyes and nudging his gear on the floor with his toe before shrugging again and starting to pick it up to put it away properly. "Besides," he mumbled awkwardly, "it's not like you don't have, like, a million other options."

Kurt scoffed and let out a derisive laugh.

"Like what? Go work at my dad's shop, changing tires and fixing engines, coming home with grease under my nails every night? Or what? Donning a Lima Bean uniform and selling mediocre coffee to other Lima Losers?"

 _Fucking Kurt. Can't even take a fucking compliment,_ Sebastian thought, hating that he had to spell it out for him. Well, he wasn't going to give it to him easily. He pushed the door to his wardrobe closed and smirked. "Well, you can always try to find yourself a sugar daddy. I'm sure there's a few out there who go for the uniform and the rosy cheeks."

When nothing came back, no repartee, no pushback of any kind, he gave up and sighed. This was like stomping on a kitten, and that was _not_ his style at all.

He walked over to Kurt's bed and sat down next to him. Suddenly unsure where to put his hands, he trapped them between his knees. "I meant more like...your voice is not all you have to offer. You have a knack for arrangements and organisation; you helped the Warblers get off their stools, and I know for a fact you secretly helped your old Nude Erections buddies with their set for Regionals last semester and I would have filed an official complaint at the Warbler Council if I hadn't been so sure we would win with you on our team anyway." He snorted. They had completely annihilated the competition- but admittedly the New Direction's set had been good, thanks to Kurt. 

"Great!," Kurt said sarcastically, though he felt the beginnings of a smile curl at the corners of his mouth. "I've always wanted to be the next Mr Schue."

Sebastian took a deep breath. Clearly it wasn't enough yet. "Well, what about your clothes?"

Kurt felt his hackles raise up and steeled his spine for some asinine comment. "What about them?"

Sebastian forced himself to not roll his eyes. "Oh come on Hummel, I've spent enough evenings with you sitting cutting and sewing away at your desk on whatever piece of clothing you've picked up at the local thrift store. Every single item of clothing that you own is unique." He paused. "Sometimes it even looks good." 

"Gee, thanks! So I am destined for a sad life of coaching misfit teens...but at least I'll look okay _some_ of the time doing it."

Sebastian turned to look at him and Kurt couldn't stop the smile from taking over his face. He knew his eyes were still wet and puffy but he was starting to feel warmth spread through him again.

"Okay so maybe _most_ of the time," Sebastian admitted grudgingly. "I mean, I don't know much about fashion myself-"

"Clearly, seeing as how you spend most of your weekends wearing rugby shirts with the collar popped." Kurt smirked.

 _Ah, there he was._ Kurt was back in the room. Seastian figured maybe he was present enough now to listen.

"But, yeah, I think that could be something you'd be good at. Just...spread your feelers out to other directions a little." He smirked. "Okay, that probably would have sounded less creepy if I wasn't on your bed."

Kurt snorted. "Probably." He thought it over. "I guess it _would_ be pretty cool to do some kind of work with fashion...I mean I _can_ sew and have a good eye for it. But it's always just been a hobby, a way for me to express myself and individuality. I've never considered it as an actual career move. I'd have no idea where to even begin. Acting and being on stage is all I've ever wanted to do."

Sebastian chewed his lip. This whole conversation was whack- they didn't get much further than trading snark most days, between him telling Kurt to keep his vocal runs to himself and Kurt vollying back that he would if Sebastian kept his syphilis on his side of the room- and here he was giving life advice? Still, placating Kurt was in his best interest too, as a cheered up roommate was definitely less unnerving and off-putting than a sobbing one. 

"Okay, well, NYADA isn't the _only_ performing arts program in the country and the school year is still young. So you could always try and apply for another program. But...say it doesn't work out...for whatever reason...what else could you see yourself doing? If you had to pick your dream job that _wasn't_ being on stage. What would it be?"

Kurt pondered it for a moment. He really hadn't ever given it much thought. From the moment he could walk and talk he'd been dancing and singing around the house.

He let his eyes drift over his belongings on his desk at the foot of his bed, and finding a stack of magazines.

Kurt raised his chin, and a little of his usual spark returned to his eyes. "Anywhere? Okay. I'd want to work at Vogue." There was a challenge to it, like he was daring Sebastian to laugh at him.

"That's...a really good idea, actually," Sebastian said. He frowned in thought. "I know someone who works in their New York office." 

Kurt looked at him in disbelief. "Wait...really?" _Please don't let this be a joke,_ he wished fervently. Sebastian's jokes were usually more obvious and innuendo-filled, but Kurt didn't trust him, knowing his luck it would be the ‘hot guy who mopped the perfectly tiled floors'.

"Yeah, really. My aunt is the director of design for the website."

Kurt's mouth fell open, his sadness momentarily forgotten in his state of pure shock.

"Your aunt...is Isabelle Wright? Isabelle Wright the fashion designer is _your_ family," he repeated, staring at Sebastian, his messy lacrosse gear, his wardrobe that held only polo shirts and frat boy slacks, and then back at him.

Sebastian shrugged casually and nodded to confirm.

"Why the hell am I just finding out about this now?! I read Vogue all the time...how have you never mentioned this?" Kurt let out, sounding a little scandalised.

Sebastian was _always_ bragging about things that made him sound impressive; his dad's job, his wealth, all the guys he slept with, his year in Paris...why would he leave this nugget of information out?

Sebastian frowned. "It's not like you and I regularly sit down to paint each other's toenails and chat about our family," he replied a little defensively. "She spent most of my childhood in Italy."

He shrugged again. "Maybe I could get you an interview. I do remember her as one of my more tolerable relatives. But you'd have to show her you really want it, and not just as a back-up gig, or it might reflect bad upon _me_."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded. "That makes sense." He wasn't really worrying about ruining Sebastian's chances at an amiable Thanksgiving dinner, but of course Ms Wright would expect- and deserved- the very best. Doubt crept upon him. 

"But if I _did_ get an interview...what would you suggest I do? I'm not exactly taking any electives that are conducive to working for a fashion magazine..."

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended that you think _I_ know that," Sebastian let out, then shook his head. "Hold on, I'll fix it."

He took out his phone and sent off a message. A few moments later, his phone buzzed and he hit dial.

Kurt bit his lip and waited- but then got impatient. "Are you calling her? Are you actually calling _her_ right now? Oh my god!"

"Shhh," Sebastian said importantly, sitting up on the bed as he waited for the other side to pick up. "Aunt Isabelle? Hey, it's Sebastian-"

Kurt froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Sebastian paused and smiled; a bit forced, but she wouldn't be able to tell on the phone anyway. He could sound nice if he wanted to. "Oh, fine, just great, I was just wondering...are you hiring right now?" He paused again then chuckled. "Oh god no, not for me! No, I'm asking for..." he sucked in a breath and looked at Kurt. "A friend."

Kurt smiled a little at Sebastian's words. They'd been roomates for a while now and their time together had been...interesting. It wasn't that they didn't get on exactly, but they'd never really gelled as friends. They were just two vastly different people who shared the same space and as such had learnt to tolerate and navigate each other.

They talked, but about superficial stuff; school, homework, Warblers...but never anything _deep_. It wasn't like talking to Mercedes, or Jeff. Kurt wasn't even sure who Sebastian talked to (if anyone; he seemed to imply he preferred other uses for his friends' lips).

He watched as Sebastian chatted to his aunt, warmth flooding through him. They weren't friends before, Kurt thought, but maybe they could be after this.

The conversation continued for a little while longer before Kurt noticed the signs of Sebastian trying to end the call. Realising that he was slouching against his pillows, he sat up just as Sebastian hung up

"What did she say?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, she told me a lot of irrelevant stuff about her previous PAs and her workload and I may have drifted off a bit at some point when she started about her shoe collection-" He paused and smirked. Kurt was looking incredibly insulted, liked he could not imagine anyone _not_ being interested in what Isabelle had to say about shoes. 

"But the bottom line is she needs an assistant badly, and if you can show you understand what the brand and her designs are about, she'll meet with you. You'll need to send some of your info upfront, you know, introduction, motivation, blabla."

Sebastian sat back and put his phone away. "You know what this means, don't you?" he asked, and instead of waiting for an answer, he supplied: "If you get the job, you are totally hooking me up with male Vogue models."

Kurt snorted. "I'd need to give you a make-over before they even look at you."

Sebastian smirked. "Just don't paint my toenails and we'll be okay."

 _Always the last word, this guy,_ Kurt thought fondly, and realised in surprise he wasn't feeling sad anymore. Instead, he felt amused and slightly exasperated- and oddly confident about the future.


End file.
